


Relapse

by E_Ng714



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Ng714/pseuds/E_Ng714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch blames himself for Reid's relapse.  Now it's up to him to get Reid clean again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relapse

Title: Relapse

Summary: Hotch blames himself for Reid’s relapse. Now he has to make it right. How far is he willing to go?  
Setting: Even though episode 3.18 "Elephant's Memory" took place, lets say this took place in season 5. Spencer has been clean for two years. One shot for now. May do sequel may not.

 

“Well hello Mr. Fed. Never thought I’d see you again,” Darren greeted one of his former customers. He had supposedly kicked the habit. Now he was back. They _always_ came back.

“Do you have it?” Spencer asked, not wanting to waste time with this degenerate.

Darren shook a packet of pills. “Pills just like you wanted. What’s the matter? Afraid the boss will see if you’re shooting up?”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Spencer snapped, grabbing at the bag. Darren snatched it back.

“How much?”

“These are 8 mg capsules. Twice as strong as what you get at the drug store. Twenty bucks a pill.”

“Ten.”

“Twenty.”

“Good-bye,” Spencer said, preparing to walk off.

“Alright, fifteen.” Darren didn’t want to lose a loyal customer with a good paying job. Plus, him being a fed, he could be very useful….

“I have thirty capsules, so that’s four fifty.”

Reid counted out the money, handed it to his dealer and snatched the package.

Back at his apartment, he was still contemplating what he was about to do.

Two years.

Two years of sobriety. All about to go down the drain. All the because of the image that he couldn't get out of his head.

Ryan Phillips. Kidnapper, murder, would be rapist. Typical psychopath. Head blown off by an assassin for the Irish mob. Reid shouldn’t care, but he did.

He couldn’t figure out why. Was it because of the needless loss of another life? Maybe. Was it because Reid didn’t want Lindsay to see her father kill another person? Could be. OR, was it because Reid had tried to talk him down and Vaughn had blown the kid’s head off anyway? Ding. Ding. Ding. You win the prize.

That’s when the cravings started. But he had managed to conquer them. That time.

Then a case took him to West Bune, Texas. Owen Savage, a troubled teen turned injustice collector. Abandoned by his father, constantly ridiculed and bullied by his friends. Teachers and guidance counselors turning a blind eye. The counselor’s ‘boys will be boys’ excuse. He’d heard that one before. Hell, twelve years ago he was Owen Savage.

Everyone thought he was being irrational. They took the side of the counselors, the sheriff, and all the residents of that stupid town. Sure blame the victim. And make no mistake, Owen Savage was a victim. Hotch’s solution had been to give him a ‘time out’.

SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief, Behavioral Analysis Unit, Federal Bureau of Investigation

Aaron Hotchner.

Superdad, Devoted Husband, even though his wife walked out on him. The number one badass of the BAU. Captain America. His boss.

Hotch.

Fuck Hotch.

Reid had managed to talk Owen down, preventing more bloodshed and the pointless death of a misunderstood teenager.

Hotch’s solution had been to suspend him. Two weeks.

“I should fire you. Next time I will.”

Go right ahead Captain America. Do you know how many job offerings he had a day? Salaries twice as much as the chump change he was making here.

Nobody's perfect, everyone had their vices.

His sponsor, almost as high on the totem pole of the FBI you can get, had oxycodone.

He had his dilaudid.

Hell, even Hotch, Mr. Perfect, Captain America had his vice.

The bottle.

Hypocrite.

Reid just wanted to the nightmares to disappear. Just wanted his brain to slow down and shut the fuck up sometimes.

He got home, took a long shower, popped a capsule and lay back to let it work. He could feel his mind quieting down.

He was going to enjoy these two weeks off.

**********

Hotch sat at his desk rubbing his temples. He had felt guilty about coming down on Reid, but the boy...the man... had let his emotions dictate him into doing something reckless. Tired of covering up his transgressions, he had to put him in his place.

That was one week and two cases ago. He still had one week of suspension left. However, he needed Reid back now. The others had asked about Reid, Hotch had told them that he was taking time off. They all knew what that meant.

Now Aaron had to do something he didn’t want to do: he had to lift Reid’s suspension. He didn’t like the example it would send but he was sure Reid had learned his lesson, and that he would be happy to get back to work.

“You wanted to see me Hotch?” Derek asked.

“Yes. Can you get ahold of Reid and ask him to report tomorrow morning?”

Derek knew better than to ask questions. “Sure.”

Derek had called and called Reid, left half a dozen messages, but Reid hadn't’ called him back. At the end of the day, Hotch asked if he had been able to contact Reid.

“No,” Derek admitted.

Hotch’s dark eyebrows furrowed. “Did you call him?”

“Yes, about ten times. Left at least six messages. Hotch, I think he’s avoiding us.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, the first three times I called, it rang before it went to voice mail. After that, it went straight to voice mail.”

“So he turned his phone off.”

“Yes.”

Hotch rubbed his temples. The last time this happened with an agent she ended up resigning after shooting an unarmed man in cold blood.

“Hotch, I know what you’re thinking,” Derek started.

Hotch glared at his subordinate. “What am I thinking?”

“I know you still blame yourself for what happened to Elle, but-”

“That’s enough,” Hotch interjected sharply. “Stop by his apartment. Call me and let me know what happens.” Goddammit, why the hell did Derek have to go there?

Spencer listened to all the messages before deleting them.

“Hey Pretty Boy, it’s me. Good news, Hotch wants you back at work tomorrow! Call me back.”

Four more messages just like that one. Then the final message.

“Look kid, what the hell? I know you’re there. First you don’t answer, then you cut your phone off? Call me back, I’m serious. Don’t make me come over there.”

Whatever. So Hotch wanted him back at work, eh? And instead asking him, he sends Morgan to do it. Coward.

He was just about to pop another pill (his fifth one that day) when he heard someone banging on the door. He knew who it was. He was tempted not to answer it, but he knew Morgan, and he would just kick it in. He put his goodies in his hiding place and went to answer the door.

“Reid! Open this door or I swear to God, I’ll-”

Reid snatched open the door. Derek pushed his way in.

“Where the hell have you been?” Derek demanded.

“Right here.” Derek looked around. It looked like Reid hadn't left the house in weeks. Dozens of take out boxes lay around, dishes (mostly coffee cups) filled the sink, trash overflowing. What the hell was going on?

“Then why didn’t you answer the phone?” Derek demanded. “I know you got my messages, then you cut that phone off. What the hell kind of game are you playing?"

“I’m not playing a game, Derek. Hotch suspended me for two weeks. I’m under no obligation-”

“Cut the bullshit, Reid. Look, we need you back-”

“If Hotch wants me back then he could at least have the decency to ask me himself. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to turn in. Goodnight.” Reid ushers him towards the door.

“Wait just a minute.” Derek pauses, and looks into Spencers eyes. “Wait, are you using again?” Derek demanded.

Reid glared. “Excuse me?”

“Look at you! Your pupils are all dilated, your house is in a mess. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing is going on with me. And don’t even think about searching my house. You have no right, and no probable cause. Now get out.”

Derek narrowed his eyes and then left. Reid prepared for his next guest.

Hotch answered his phone on the first ring. “Morgan, did you see him?"

“Yeah Hotch he was there. And it doesn’t look good.”

“What do you mean?” Hotch demanded.

“I think he’s using again.”

Hotch’s blood ran cold. “What makes you say that?”

“Hotch, you should see him. His eyes were all glassy and dilated, his apartment was in a mess. Looks like he hasn’t left there since we got back from Texas.”

“Did you search the house?”

“I wanted to but-”

“Never mind, I’ll take care of it. What did he say about returning to work?”

“He said that if you wanted him to come back you would have to ask him yourself.”

“I see.”

“You know that’s out of the question right? If Strauss even suspects-”

“I am aware Derek. I’m going by there tonight. Don’t tell anyone else about this.”

Reid was dozing in front of the TV when his second guest started banging on the door. He opened the door to see his boss standing there, a cold fury in his eyes.

“Hotch,” Reid greeted sarcastically. “What can I do for you?”

“Derek told me he stopped by here tonight.”

“He did. And?”

Hotch peered at him closely. Dilated pupils, diminished motor skills. The signs were all there.

“What do you want Hotch?”

“You can start by showing me your arms.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. Reid, show me your arms.”

“Go to hell,” Spencer snapped, turning on his heel and heading towards the back. He got as far as two steps before he was roughly grabbed by the shoulder and yanked around.

“Get the fuck off me!” Reid exclaimed. But Hotch was too strong. He pinned Spencer to the wall and ripped his sleeves up, checking for fresh tract marks.

“As you can see, I haven’t been using. So if you will kindly get out of my house-”

“We’re not done. Take off your pants and socks.”

“No!”

“Reid, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“You have no right!” Reid screamed. “Get off me!”

Bang! Bang! Bang! “Spencer? Everything alright?” It was Keith, one of his neighbors.

“No!” Spencer yelled.

Hotch snatched open the door. “FBI, go back to your apartment,” Hotch said, flashing his badge.

“FBI? Spencer is the FBI!” His neighbor protested.

“And I’m his boss, now get back in your apartment before I arrest you for obstruction!” Hotch snapped.

“Goddamn pigs,” the neighbor muttered before going across the hall and slamming the door.

Hotch closed and locked the door and turned to face Reid. “I told you to undress.”

“So now you want to strip search me?” Reid demanded.

“Like I said Reid, you have two options. Either undress or I will do it for you.”

Reluctantly, Reid peeled off his socks and stripped off his pants.

“Step into the light,” Hotch ordered.

Hotch checked all the typical shoot up points for track marks. Between his toes, behind his knees. When Hotch got to his inner thighs, Spencer flinched.

“Relax.”

“How can I relaxed when I’m being violated?” Spencer demanded.

Hotch didn’t answer. He ran his calloused fingers along Spencer’s inner thighs. Spencer’s body shuddered involuntarily. “That’s enough!” he snapped. Spencer snatched his clothes and ran to his bedroom, slamming the door.

Hotch was satisfied that Spencer wasn’t shooting up. But he knew that it didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t using. In fact, Hotch was positive that he was using. Dilaudid came in pills, capsules and elixer.

While Hotch searched Spencer’s apartment for drugs, he couldn’t help thinking about what had just happened. Spencer’s skin was so soft, his legs shapely, everyone always assumed Spencer was a bag of bones, but that wasn’t true. His thighs were so soft and smooth, his skin warm. And the way Spencer had reacted, his body shudder and he could have sworn that there was a slight stirring…

Spencer locked the door, seething in humiliation. He should have known that Hotch would pull something like this.

 _Fucking control freak, always has to have his way,_ Spencer thought. _Bully, megalomaniac, narcissist. Searching me like I’m a goddamn UnSub. I swear if he touches me again I’ll…_

During most of the search, Spencer had felt nothing but hostility and contempt. But when Hotch had touched his thighs…

It was an involuntary reaction. Totally natural. He shuddered because Hotch’s skin was calloused, not because he wanted it…

But what about the erection? He felt himself hardening under Hotch’s touch. He couldn’t help but think what would happen if Hotch had cupped his balls…

Spencer heard Hotch rummaging around in his kitchen. He snatched open the door and stormed back out.

“Now what are you doing?” he demanded.

Hotch didn’t answer, because Spencer clearly knew what he was doing. He had emptied out the coffee, sugar, flour, salt, pepper, rice...all his foods. He was looking for drugs.

“You can’t search my house without a warrant!” Spencer yelled.

Hotch turned to face him. “You want me to get one?”

“I’ll call the police!”

Hotch gave Spencer a I dare you look. Spencer backed down, just watching Hotch work, and swearing that Hotch was going to replace everything he had messed up.

Hotch tore the house apart. Spencer followed, him, saying nothing. There wasn’t a problem until Hotch got to his bedroom. There was a shoebox in his closet that Spencer definitely didn’t want him to touch.

“Give me that!” Spencer snapped and snatched the shoebox away.

'This must be it, this is where he is hiding the drugs', Hotch thought.

“Spencer, what’s in the box?”

“None of your business!” Spencer snapped.

“Give me the box.”

“I said-” Hotch snatched the box and opened it. No, the box didn’t contain drugs, it was something far more sinister.

A box full of toys.

There were cock rings, plugs, clamps, and oils. Hell, there were things in there that Hotch had never seen. But the thing that brought the most attention were the vibrators. Three different sizes. One red, one purple, and one jet black.

Holy shit. Spencer was gay?

Of course he was. Either that or he had a very kinky girlfriend.

“Like what you see?” Spencer demanded, snatching the box.

“Spencer-” Hotch started.

“Just get the hell out, Hotch.” Spencer’s tone was no longer angry, just weary.

Hotch left and closed the bedroom door behind him. Spencer didn’t hear the front door open or close. Whatever. He was going to bed.

Hotch sat in the living room, making a list. Derek had been right. This house was a mess, littered with takeout cartons and dirty dishes. The trash was piled up in the garbage can, and Hotch hadn’t helped the matter any when performing the search.

He didn’t feel guilty, not in the least. He did what he had to do. He wasn’t going to let Spencer destroy himself. And he wasn’t convinced that Spencer wasn’t using again. He recognized the signs from last time. Fidgety, moody, unable to make eye contact. He’d have to deal with this.

But what Hotch couldn’t get out of his mind was Spencer’s little toy chest. Filled with everything one might need for naughty play. God, the things he could do…

He was interrupted by his cell phone ringing.

“Yes Morgan?”

“Hotch, did you go by there?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“So what do you think? Is he using again?”

“I’m not sure. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Ok man, see you.”

Spencer had dreams that night. But not nightmares that usually plagued him. No, these were good dreams, pleasant dreams, naughty dreams.

It started with the search. Hotch pushed him against the wall and kicked his legs apart. He searched his entire body, patting him down from head to toe. But he still wasn’t satisfied, so he licked his fingers and slipped them into Spencer’s ass. Instead of poking around, he massaged gently. This caused Spencer to moan in pleasure.

Hotch pretended to be disgusted by his pleasure, and grabbed his cock and squeezed it tight. With one hand around his cock and another in Spencer’s ass, Hotch massaged and stroked Spencer to orgasm, whispering filth and calling him dirty names all the while.Once he was spent, he forced Spencer to his knees and demanded that Spencer show his gratitude by pleasuring him…

Spencer jolted awake, panting and sweating. His shorts were wet and sticky. Did he just have a wet dream? What the fuck? He got up and headed to the bathroom for a long shower, he hadn’t had one in over a week. Then he stripped his sheets off his bed and trudged into the kitchen where the laundry closet was. Thinking Hotch was gone, he was surprised to see that he wasn’t, he was stretched out on Spencer’s sofa, his shoes off, and one hand tucked under his head. But what he saw in the kitchen surprised him even more.

The dishes were stacked in the rack, all cleaned. All the takeout boxes had been cleared away. His trash had been taken out and his floor had been swept and mopped with the Wet Jet. The living room had been cleared of trash and bottles. All of his books were stacked neatly on the bookcase.

Hotch had cleaned up.

Of all the things Spencer imagined him doing; something as ordinary as cleaning a house never came to mind. Spencer threw the sheets and shorts into the laundry basket, grabbed a bottle of water and headed back to his room. He cleaned up his room, put fresh linen on the bed and threw all his dirty clothes into the hamper. He also cleaned his bathroom. After that, he climbed into bed and drifted off to sleep.  
When he awoke again, it was after nine. Hotch was gone. Apparently he decided that it was not worth arguing with Spencer to try to get him to return to work early. He went to brew a fresh pot of coffee but he remembered that Hotch had dumped it out in his quest for drugs.

Son of a Bitch.

As he dressed and prepared to head to the coffee shop down the street, he heard a loud knock at the door. Knowing the team was on a case, he wondered who it could be. Probably his neighbor come to check on him.

But it wasn’t. It was the local high end grocers with a delivery. Hotch had them deliver milk, sugar, coffee, rice, flour, and all of the rest of the things he had dumped out. He also had them deliver a dozen of their finest danishes. Spencer’s stomach churned. He hadn’t been eating much lately. He polished off four of the pastries and two cups of coffee. Feeling restless, he decided to head out for the day..

“So what happened Hotch?” Morgan asked as the boarded the plane to Jackson, Mississippi.

“I went by there and spoke with him.”

“And?” Derek pressed. Hotch was being deliberately vague, which irked him. Especially since this was Reid they were talking about.

“I have to agree with your assessment. He may be using again, although I found no evidence of that.”

“Did you...search his apartment?”

“I did.”

Derek’s mouth dropped open. “Hotch, you can’t just-”

“Would you rather it be us or the police?” Hotch asked.

Derek relented. “I guess you have a point. But did you see his apartment? It was a mess!”

“I know.”

“Look Hotch, I know Gideon was all ‘hands off’ last time but I don’t think that’s going to work if he’s had a relapse.”

Hotch nodded. “I agree, but we have to keep this quiet. I don’t have to tell you what will happen if Strauss finds out.”  
“I hear you, man.”

Hotch found it difficult to concentrate on the case. All he wanted to do was wrap it up so he could get back to Spencer. He called Spencer twice a day but he wasn’t answering his phone.

Spencer’s day out only left him anxious and irritated when he got home. He ordered from his Favorite Thai restaurant. After eating, he cleaned up and washed his dishes. If he kept his place like a pigsty, that would only make Hotch pry even further. He spent the next four days in a haze, trapped between eating and popping pills, sleep and awake. Hotch called him twice a day but he studiously ignored his calls, as well as Derek’s.

On the weekend before he was due to return to work Hotch showed up at his apartment again.

“What do you want?” he asked his boss, more out of weariness than irritation.

“Reid, I am your superior and will not be spoken to like that,” Hotch snapped.

Instead of being cowed, that tone only made Reid more feisty. “Now you sound like Strauss.” Reid could tell by Hotch’s eyes that he had hit the mark. “When we’re at work, I’ll ‘yes sir’ all you want. But we are not at work, so I’ll thank you kindly to get out of my apartment.”

Hotch drew himself up to his full height. “Reid, I want you to know that we will not be taking the hands off approach this time. I’m going to be riding your ass hard, so be prepared. You have people who care about you, and we will not let you destroy this team or yourself.” Hotch headed for the door. “I’ll see you Monday, bright and early. And If you don’t want me coming by here every day then I suggest you answer my calls.” Hotch opened the door and left.

Spencer seethed with contempt at Hotch’s highhandedness. God, the man just didn’t let up. Where was he after he had been tortured for two days by Henkel? After he had rescued him and Spencer had collapsed in his arms, he left him alone; they all did. Hotch ran home to his little wife and pretended everything was ok.

But it wasn’t. After Spencer had managed to get clean, all by himself. No support from the team even though they knew what was going on. The only person he could talk to about it was John, his sponsor. But John didn’t know everything.

Spencer had been nursing feelings for Hotch ever since he first started working with him. It was hard to watch him pretend to be happy with his little upper middle class suburban life. Feeling Hotch gather him into his arms for an embrace had comforted him. But after a few seconds the moment was over, Hotch walked off to call his precious Haley. Spencer saw his whole world crumble around him. He needed to forget. That’s why he grabbed the dilaudid.

He blamed Hotch for his addiction because it was easy; much easier than accepting rejection and a life of solitude.

Fuck. He was thinking too much again. He needed a pill. But he was down to five. That wouldn’t get him through the weekend. He pulled out his burner phone and called one of the five pre programmed numbers.

They agreed to meet again. Spencer wanted 30 more, but after checking his account balance at the ATM he discovered he could only spare 300 dollars.

“So Mr. Fed, same as last time?”

“No, just 20.”

“Twenty? That won't last long.”

“Just give it to me.”

“I think I know of a way that you can make up the difference,” Darren proposed.

Spencer cringed inwardly. “I don’t do that anymore.”

Darren sighed dramatically. “That’s too bad. I was going to throw in ten more, if you were willing to go all the way.”

Spencer was disgusted but that was an opportunity too good to pass up. “Fine.”

“Same place, one hour.”

Spencer popped two pills so he wouldn’t feel much, thinking about Hotch as his dealer took his pleasure. After the final grunt of Darren’s release, Darren rolled over and padded to the bathroom with his pants around his ankles. Spencer drifted off to sleep to the sound of the toilet flushing and Darren letting himself out of the cheap motel he rented for the night.

Spencer woke up groggy that morning. He took a cab home. As soon as he got in the door, he heard his phone beeping with messages. Fuck.

"This is Hotch. I warned you that if you didn’t answer my calls I would be coming by there. I will see you soon."

Spencer took a long shower, popped two more pills, hid his stash and waited for Hotch to show up.

Forty five minutes later, he was rewarded, or punished with Hotch’s appearance.  
“Yes?” Reid asked as Hotch entered his apartment.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Hotch demanded.

“I was out, and didn’t have my phone.”

 _Classic evasion, trying to avoid being caught by leaving his cell phone at home,_ Hotch thought.

“Where were you?” Hotch demanded.

“That’s none of your business, Hotch.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes and fixed Spencer in a glare. Spencer wasn’t impressed.

“My whereabouts when I am off the clock and on suspension are none of your business,” Spencer reminded him.

“You ruining your career and your life with a possible relapse is my business,” Aaron countered.

“If you’re so sure I’m using, why not give me a drug test?” Spencer challenged.

Aaron clenched his fist. Spencer knew he wouldn’t dare to do that. If he tested positive, there would be hell to pay for the both of them. Spencer would be fired, of course, and Strauss would finally have the fodder she needed to oust Aaron from his position.

“What’s the matter?” Spencer taunted. “Scared you’ll ruin your rep? Not being able to keep your youngest agent off the needle certainly wouldn’t look good to the-”

Aaron grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. “You think this is a goddamn game?” Aaron hissed through clenched teeth. “You think that’s all I care about?”

Spencer’s eyes were glazed over, his motor skills too diminished to react to the fear that he felt. He mumbled something unintelligible.

“Goddammit Spencer! You’re high right now, aren't you?” Aaron shook Spencer. “Look at me!” But he couldn’t, he couldn’t focus. Aaron let go of Spencer and he slid down the wall into a heap on the floor.

He heard Aaron in his room, tearing it apart. 'He’ll never find it', Spencer chuckled to himself. His bravado vanished when Aaron entered the bathroom.

“No!” Spencer exclaimed, jumping up and running to the bathroom.

He was too late. Aaron was holding his stash, the secret compartment in his bathroom closet busted open.

“Aaron…” Spencer whimpered. “Don’t...please don’t…”

Aaron lifted the toilet seat up and dumped the contents into the commode.

“No!” Spencer screamed, scrambling to get the last of the pills. “No! No! No!”

Aaron held Spencer in his strong arms as he struggled and flailed and whispered words of comfort as Spencer collapsed into sobs on the floor. He rocked Spencer as he cried himself to sleep. He had never seen Spencer so broken; not even when he had been tortured for two days and forced to dig his own grave.

Aaron carried Spencer to his bed and tucked him in. He looked at his watch. Three AM on Sunday morning. There was no way Spencer would be able to go to work Monday, and neither could he. If Hotch left Spencer alone, he would just go back out and score some more. He heard a crash from the back. He jumped off the couch and sprinted to the bedroom and the attached bath.

Spencer was tearing the bathroom apart, emptying bottles and breaking glasses, porcelain cups, anything he could.

“Where is it?” Spencer demanded. “Where did you put it?!”

“Spencer,” Aaron said calmly. “They’re gone. I flushed them all.”

“Son of a bitch!” Spencer screamed and launched himself at Aaron, pounding his already bloodied fists into his chest. “Get out! Leave me alone!”

“I can’t do that Spencer.”

Aaron held Spencer tight as he collapsed into sobs again. He rocked him until he fell asleep. Then the swept up the broken glass and porcelain.

Two hours later, Spencer was up again. This time he was hunched over the toilet, emptying his stomach’s contents. Aaron walked towards him but Spencer’s hand held him back.

Spencer flushed the contents down and trudged back to his bed. Aaron headed for the living room.

“You can lay down in here. I’m not gonna bite.”

Aaron went into the living room anyway. He woke up again to Spencer dashing to the toilet. This time it was diarrhea. Spencer took a long shower afterwards, then threw up again. Aaron was waiting for him when he got out.

“Welcome to withdrawal,” he muttered and collapsed on his bed. Aaron got in beside him.

Aaron woke up to Spencer in a cold sweat. He was tossing and turning, panting and flailing around on the bed he checked his watch. Eight thirty on Sunday morning. He called Morgan.

“Hotch?”

“Morgan, I need a favor.”

“What is it?”

“You were right, Spencer was using again. Pills this time. I found his stash and flushed it.”

“Aw man.”

“I’m going to stay with him while he detoxes over the next few days. I’ll need you to handle things at work.”

“I got you. Anything else?”

“Yes, can you go by the store and get some ginger ale, soup, crackers and Gatorade? I’ll pay you-”

“Hotch don’t worry about it. I got you. See you in an hour.”

Hotch hung up the phone and went back to check on Spencer. He was moaning on the bed but appeared to be sleep.

Derek came and they talked some and then he left. He poured Spencer a glass of ginger ale and took the glass along with the crackers to his room. Spencer had just returned from the bathroom again.

“Dry heaves,” he commented grimly. “Nothing left to throw up.”

“Here. Try this,” Hotch said, offering Spencer the crackers and ginger ale. Spencer accepted, nibbling on the crackers and sipping the ginger ale.

Spencer was able to keep the crackers and ginger ale down. They drifted to the living room, Aaron watching a football game on tv and Spencer reading.

“Hotch,” Spencer finally spoke up. “Why are you here?”

Hotch looked at Spencer. “Reid, I’m here because I care about you. I won’t let this ruin you. You’re better than this.”

“What makes you so sure?” Spencer demanded. “You don’t know me, none of you do. All you see is innocent, geeky little Dr. Reid at work. You don’t see me as I really am, a useless junkie who’s half crazy and fucks for drugs!”

Aaron jumped off the couch. “What did you say?” Aaron demanded.

“You heard me. I may be a FBI agent with three doctorates, but I’m also a junkie who bends over and spreads it for a fix-”

Aaron grabbed Reid and began to shake him. “Stop it! You’re lying!”

“No I’m not!” Reid shouted and shoved Hotch off. “And deep down you know its true. How many drug addicts have you profiled Hotch? We’re all alike, I’m no different. We’ll do anything for that next high. You saw my toy chest didn’t you? You know what a whore I am. If I’m not getting high I’m shoving that vibrator up my ass-”

“Reid,” Aaron said softly, his eyes soft and desperate. “Please stop. You’re not a junkie, and you’re not a whore. This was just a small hiccup in your success. And what you do for pleasure in the privacy of your own home is no one’s business.”

Reid slid down against the wall and buried his head in his hands. “This is all your fault, you know.” Reid mumbled.

Hotch slid down the floor with him. “I know. I shouldn’t have suspended you-”

Reid’s head snapped up. “You think this is about that stupid suspension? You have no idea, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Hotch continued in that soft voice. “So tell me.”

“You have no idea why I started using the first place? It wasn’t because of Tobias, it was because of you! I left you all those clues to find me and then you just ran off! You gave me that one little hug and you ran off to call your precious wife! You left me there Hotch! That’s why I started using! I wanted to forget, forget about my feelings. It worked for a while, but the always came back.”  
Hotch just stared at Reid, his mouth open. His tongue frozen in his mouth. Was Reid admitting to having feelings for him?

“And then you abandoned me again. You knew I was hooked, all of you. And you just left me to deal with it on my own. What if I had OD’d? What would you have done then? I know. You would have moved on and forgot about me.”

“Reid, we wouldn’t have-”

“And now you come here riding my ass and humiliating me, pretending it’s because you care but it’s really all about you. This is about your guilt, and your reputation, and your pride. It has nothing to do with me.”

Reid looked up. Hotch was trembling, his eyes were glistening with unshed tears. His breathing was fast and shallow.

“Reid I’m...I’m…” the first tear fell. “I’m sorry. I was scared, and selfish. I didn’t know what to do. So I pretended nothing was wrong. This was my fault and I’m sorry…” Hotch’s voice cracked and the dam broke. He struggled to keep it in but he couldn’t. “I’m sorry...I’m so, so sorry…” He sobbed over and over again. Reid wasn’t the failure, he was. HE had allowed it to happen, by putting the team above the individual members. Reid was broken,all because of him.

Reid crept closer and wrapped his arms around Hotch. He tried to break free, he didn’t deserve Reid’s comfort. He was supposed to be there for _Reid_ , not the other way around. But Reid wouldn’t let go. They held each other and rocked together on the floor.

“Reid, I wont leave you ever again, I promise. But please, don’t let this destroy you. You’re not a junkie, you definitely not a whore. You have people that care about you. Promise me that you’ll try?”

Reid was silent for a long time before he nodded. “OK, I promise.”

**End**


End file.
